


Riddle Me This

by thelittlefanpire



Series: Chopped Challenge Fics [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge, F/M, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Round 1, teaching moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 01:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlefanpire/pseuds/thelittlefanpire
Summary: There is one entrance, but two exits to The Grounders Café, the main door and then a side door that opens into an alleyway. At a glance, the alley appears to be empty save for a few trash dumpsters. Many of the customers from the café can be seen leaving through the side door and disappearing into the alley. But before they can pass, they must answer a riddle from the woman who guards the door.Octavia Blake has worked at the café for as long as she can remember, holding open the door for those who travel between Arkadia and its more mythical Greek counterpart. Her riddles are as strong as the coffee she brews, but this sphinx is ready for an adventure of her own.A Modern Linctavia Coffee Shop AU with a Greek Myth twist written for the Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge!





	Riddle Me This

**Author's Note:**

> Tropes: Mythical Creature + Kiss In The Rain + Teaching Moment + Coffee Shop AU 
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write! Check out more information for the [Chopped Challenge on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/chopped:-the-100-fanfic-challenge)!

Octavia isn’t sure which god she has to thank for creating coffee, but she sends up a prayer as she starts the first pot on her shift at The Grounders Café. It’s the beginning of a long weekend for her so she sets out a small cup to make herself a shot of espresso and begins to wipe down the concrete countertops. The hum of machines warming up matches the jazz tune playing over the speakers that floats out and around the café. With the first drip of coffee, it fills the small shop with its rich aroma and Octavia breathes it in deeply.

She moves from behind the counter and begins fluffing all the pillows along the soft sofas and against the plush armchairs. The vases along the front windows are filled with fresh cut flowers next and then she runs a broom across the hardwood floor. Her movements around the café are like a second nature to her. She knows every nook and cranny like the back of her hand, having practically grown up in the place. When she’s satisfied that the coffee shop is ready, she flips the open sign around and unbolts the front door.

As she stares out the glass of the front window, she can see the small town waking up. The brick café sits between two tall buildings forming a shallow alleyway to its entrance. A string of lights hangs like a canopy over the outside patio seating. The sun is peeking down at her over the mountain range in the distance lighting up the streets. A few commuters hurry to catch the train or a bus, but otherwise it is still quiet out.

It’s the start of the Panathenaia Festival **,** not that the town of Arkadia has any ties to ancient Greece, but the patrons of the café sure do.

When the first pot of coffee is finished brewing, she pours a few cups into biodegradable travel mugs and sets them down on the edge of the counter. The espresso machine dings and she fills her glass with a shot of extra caffeine. She only looks up from her filling glass when the door chimes and she sees the familiar face of her first customer.

“I haven’t seen you around that much lately, I was beginning to think you forgot who I was,” Octavia teases the young man. He’s tall and lanky. His brown hair flops down into his eyes that look sheepishly back at her.

“You know how busy it gets around this time, O,” he says and sets down a large brown paper bag. Octavia bounces on the balls of her feet in excitement as he pulls things out of the bag and hands them to her. A plastic bag filled with pastries from Monty Green and an assortment of deli sandwiches from the butcher, Murphy. She takes them and lays them out behind the glass display case.

“And my specialty, Jasper’s Java Beans. Strong enough to wake up the gods!” he adds and pulls out a large jar of coffee beans from behind his back. He grows the beans himself in the garden behind Monty’s bakery and The Grounders Café is lucky to receive them. Octavia stretches her arm across the counter and pulls Jasper in for a tight hug in thanks.

They chat about the weather and the upcoming festival for a few minutes until the traffic out on the street picks up and a few customers enter the coffee shop. Jasper leans back on the counter out of the way as Octavia takes the new customers’ orders. Lattes and cappuccinos are exchanged for dollars and cards. Then they’re on their way back out and off into the town.

There is one entrance, but two exits to The Grounders Café, the main door and then a side door that opens into an alleyway. At a glance, the alley appears to be empty save for a few trash dumpsters. But many of the customers from the café can be seen leaving through the side door and continuing on their way all the time.

Jasper takes a travel cup and throws a coin into the tip bucket before walking towards the side door. Octavia glances down at the large jar of coffee beans. It’s twice the size of her usual order.

“Leaving for the festival already?” She asks coming over to the door and props it open into the alleyway with her foot.

“Duties at the opening ceremonies, I’m afraid,” Jasper tips his cup at her and Octavia can see him clearly now. In his mop of hair sits two goat ears on either side of his head, there is stubble around his chin, and looking down at his legs she finds thick hairy goat legs and hooves for feet. A small flute hangs down from a gold chain around his neck.

“Riddle me this…” she starts to the revealed satyr. It’s Jasper’s turn to get a good look at her through the thin veil of magic that hides their true forms from the mortal world. Octavia is petite, her body rests snugly against the doorframe with a hip sticking out to hold the heavy door open. Her long dark hair falls down straight on either side of her face-framing her striking green eyes that are filled with mischief and secrets. He can see the tattoos peeking out under her shirt sleeves.

As his eyes travel down to her slim waist, the mist created by the god, Hecate, clears through the doorway and the hind leg of a lion takes the place of Octavia’s. The swish of her tail and the fluttering of her wings stir up dust and loose trash in the alleyway.

“What Am I?

I can be roasted, but I’m not a turkey  
I can be ground, but I’m not pepper  
I can be pressed, but I’m not a button  
I can be brewed, but I’m not beer  
I’m a bean, but I’m not magic.”

Octavia smirks up at him with a hand thrown out in question. The riddle falls from her tongue like ambrosia, sweet but potent. It’s Octavia’s job to guard the door between worlds, only allowing those that can answer her labyrinth of words to pass through.  

“You minx!” Jasper appears to be stumped by her riddle and strokes his stubble in thought. He reaches down into his shirt pocket after a moment and presses one of his black coffee beans into Octavia’s waiting hand. “I am coffee.”

“You may pass,” she steps out of the way back into the coffee shop. The mist pools around her hiding her beastly form turning her back into a mortal, but her roaring laughter echoes down the alley after Jasper as the tip of his tail swishes around a corner. She calls out after him, “And that’s Sphinx to you, goat man!”

She lets the side door shut with a bang and goes back to her spot behind the counter. The morning rush begins and she gets lost in the movements of taking orders and making coffees. The routine also allows her to get lost in her thoughts for a moment.

She imagines Jasper trotting down the alleyway to the mythical Greek counterpart of the city of Arkadia. The bricks of the buildings turn to stone pillars of temples and open up to the marketplace. Monsters and creatures alike walk among gods and heroes here. The Panathenaia Festival is starting, filling the city with music and competitors for the various games that arrive to honor the goddess, Athena.

Octavia has only glimpsed the city once before. When she was a child, her brother had convinced her to leave her post and follow him down the maze of alleys to the stadium at the city’s center. They watched as the bronze bodies of heroes and demigods marched into the marble stadium and competed in physical feats against monsters and each other. Her brother looked down in awe telling his sister how he would compete one day. How he would win all the olive oil Greece possessed and earn enough gold to free Octavia from her curse. She just stared up at him in wonder and adoration.

He never did come through with his promise though.

The chime of the door rings out pulling Octavia back to the present.

“Think of the devil, and the devil appears,” she says to the approaching customer. The man is tall with dark features. His head of curls is encased with a delicate laurel crown and a white tunic fits snugly over his taut muscles. It’s been years since she last saw him, but Octavia would recognize the demigod anywhere. Like a walking Greek tragedy, Bellamy Blake has the saunter of a hero in his hips and the audacity of a smirk plays on his lips.

“You have me confused, sister. I think Hades is busy with his wife down below,” Bellamy jokes. The mist pulls back around him causing his tunic to turn into a snug white tee and the crown upon his head into a green beanie. He looks like a normal mortal now, even if the heads of every woman in the shop still turn and stare at his beauty. The corner of his eyes crinkle and a constellation of freckles stretch across his cheeks as his smirk widens at her.

“What can I get you?” Octavia asks curtly. Her brother never stops by for small talk or to catch up. The Grounders Café is just a pit stop along his latest quest and a means to an end. The life of a demigod never rests, and unlike the Sphinx, Bellamy is free to come and go as he pleases.

“Just a black coffee, O. Thanks.”

“Riddle me this then,” she skips over any pleasantries of goodbye and gets right to the point. She moves toward the door, digs her hip in deep against the doorframe, and gives her brother his coffee and favorite puzzle.

“What is the creature that has one voice,

but has four feet in the morning

two feet in the afternoon

and three feet at night?”

“O…,” Bellamy whispers. His voice is low and full of sorrow. He reaches out to touch her face and Octavia wants to lean into his touch. She wants to let him run his fingers between the fur of her shoulder blades or ruffle her eagle-winged feathers like he did when she was a child. Instead, she pulls away from his touch letting his hand and the tension between them linger in the air.

“Riddle me this, Bell,” she repeats. Her eyes harden as she stares at him coldly. Her mortal face is as intimidating as any monster’s. Bellamy has one chance to answer the riddle correctly if he wants to pass through or face the Sphinx’s wrath.

“The Man,” Bellamy sighs. “Goodbye, Octavia.” He leaves her behind in the mortal world. She watches him until he disappears from her view. The sun has set behind the tall buildings setting everything outside in a purple and pink glow.

The warm overhead lights in the café are comforting to her when she turns back inside. The last of her customers have gone home for the evening leaving her to tidy up the café. She cranks up the radio as she sweeps and mops the floor. The coffee mugs and machinery are running through the dishwasher. The leftover delis and pastries are packed up for Octavia to take home to her apartment above The Grounders Café. She’s busy counting out the cash of the register and singing along to the Top 40 Hits, that she doesn’t notice the chime of the bell over the front door or the man that walks up to the counter.

Octavia closes the cash register and skips around to the front of the counter to make her way to the front door to close up the café for the night. She isn’t paying attention and bumps right into a solid form blocking her way. Large hands grip her shoulders to steady her and she looks up into dark brown eyes. The brief thought to scream or roar is drowned out when she stares into the swirl of chocolate that pools in the person’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, but I’ve heard you’re the lady to see for a good cup of joe around these parts?” The husky voice of the man causes goosebumps to run up and down Octavia’s arms. He runs a thumb over her pebbled skin and she can feel his breath ghosting over the top of her head. He let’s go before she can pull away.

“We-we-we were just about to, uh, close,” Octavia stutters over her words and tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear. When she looks up at the stranger’s face her jaw falls open in surprise. 

Now, there are many, many beautiful people that pass through The Grounders Café doors. Mortals that look like models, magnificent beasts, dashing demigods, and even the gods themselves, in all their splendor, will make an appearance. Octavia searches for any mist around the man to see what he’s hiding from the world behind rose-colored glasses, but there’s no fog gathering around him. She can only see the mist that covers her lion paws dancing around the edge of his feet as they stand toe-to-toe.

He’s strikingly beautiful in a gray three-piece suit with his tie loosened at the top like he’s just left the office after a hard day’s work. His skin is a mix of copper and mocha. She can see the smooth expanse of it running up from his collarbone to his bald head, down over sharp cheekbones and under a dark five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His size is intimidating, but his face is open and kind. He stares back at her expectantly with a small smile forming on his lips.

It takes Octavia minutes to realize he’s asked her if it was too late to order a coffee to go. She finally closes her mouth and stops her blatant staring. She rushes back behind the counter and flips the coffee pot back on.

“Yeah, let me brew you a fresh pot,” she calls over her shoulder. The man leans down to rest his elbows on the counter casually and a full-on smile spreads across his face as he watches her. She pulls out Jasper’s Java Beans and pours them into the grinder.

“So, are you from this area or just passing through?” She yells over the sound of coffee beans grinding fishing for information about him. His face is unfamiliar to her, and in the small town of Arkadia, it’s a face she would remember if he’d been to the café before.

“I’m in town for a few weeks for a business deal!” he shouts back.

“Oh, nice. Well, the mountains are the main attraction here, but it’s too warm for any winter activities. We have a lot of nice hiking trails, I’ve heard.”

“What?” He cups his ear to hear her over the noise.

“I’ve heard we have—,” she shouts louder until the grinder goes off and her voice echoes around the café. She lowers her voice and continues, “We have some nice hiking trails.”

“So you’ve heard?” he repeats still smiling at her.

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t tried them out yourself?”

“Someone has to run this place and supply the town with their caffeine addiction!” It’s her turn to smile and she does broadly hiding any bitterness that might be lying in her voice.

“A boss lady, okay,” he says and snaps his fingers at her. He looks around the coffee shop with a new appreciation to everything he sees.

“Well, I inherited the place, I guess you could say…,” Octavia trails off and looks around too. The industrial building feels warm from the touches she’s added over the years. There’s a working fireplace in one corner and plenty of overstuffed chairs to curl up in. Books overflow from side tables and are stacked up high behind her. There are tapestries and photographs lining some of the walls.

She’s proud of what she’s accomplished here in the small space and sighs in contentment. When the coffee is ready, she pulls out a large to-go cup.

“Milk or sugar?”

“Milk and two sugars, please.”

Octavia pours the coffee and milk into the cup stirring it together with a spoon and slides the packets of sugar across the concrete counter. She glances down at the sharpie by her fingertips and looks back up at her mysterious customer.

“Can I get a name for the order?” she tries to ask slyly and pops the cap of the pen off with her teeth.

“Lincoln,” he doesn’t hesitate to answer her with a slight glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Here you go, Lincoln,” she says handing him his cup.

“Thank you, Octavia,” he draws. Her heart drops for a moment and her face falls in fright before he rushes to add, “Octavia. It’s on your name tag.”

“Oh, right. You’re welcome.” The heckles on her back relax down and she slips another too-tight smile on her face. “We open at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Lincoln takes a sip of his coffee and Octavia watches his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. He nods at her and then clears his throat. She was staring at him. Again.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house. First time customer and last customer of the night perks. Just riddle me this…,” she waves off the cash he tries to give her. He sticks the bill into the tip bucket instead and inclines his head for her to continue.

“Although I’m not magic  
I am a type of bean  
I’m something you can drink  
That has lots of caffeine

What am I?”

“Too easy. Give me something harder,” Lincoln rolls his eyes lifting his coffee cup up to his mouth again. Octavia thinks it over. She usually reserves her coffee-themed riddles for mortals and her harder ones for those passing through the side door.

“At night they come

without being fetched,

and by day they are lost

without being stolen.”

Octavia comes around the coffee bar and stands in front of Lincoln while he mulls over his answer. She can see the wheels turning in his head as he mumbles the riddle under his breath. He stares back at her and she arches an eyebrow up in triumphant, but before he gives up the glint of headlights flash through the window of the storefront. The metaphoric lightbulb goes off above his head.

“The Stars,” he grins and Octavia’s shoulder sag in defeat. She throws out her arm and bows towards the door as a grand gesture at his win.

“Have a good night, Lincoln.”

He tips his coffee at her and turns to leave. Octavia places her hands against her chest and sends up a silent prayer to the gods that she’ll see him again. The bell above the door chimes, but the door doesn’t open.

“Jiggle the handle,” she tells him. Lincoln pulls on the door handle and she can see the tight grip of his hand as his knuckles turn white. The door still doesn’t budge.

“No, you have to lift it up and jiggle.” She hadn’t locked the door yet, but she had shut it earlier. From the inside, it was impossible to open so she usually left it slightly ajar during business hours. She walks up behind him as he places both hands on the knob and pulls up with all his might.

“Let me show you,” she whispers and his body stills when she comes up behind him.

She slides her hand over the top of his forearm and feels the way his muscles flex and then relax at her touch under the cotton of his suit. She places her hand on his putting light pressure on his fingers and turns their entwined hands to the left. She reaches up on her tiptoes to pull their hands up next twisting the doorknob so it clicks open easily. The door swings open and Octavia falls back down leaning into Lincoln’s side.

It’s the most intimate moment she’s ever had with a mortal and she lets her hand linger on his. The hot heat between their skin begins to boil and she finally has to pull away. She wraps her arms around her torso and waves goodbye as he finally exits the café.

It’s safe to say she doesn’t get much sleep that night. She replays the conversation with Lincoln over and over in her head. She thinks of all the things he could do while he’s in town, like stopping by her café before hiking up the mountains, camping by the Falls, visiting the museums, or horseback riding in the valleys. But she's really thinking of all the things _she_ could do.

—

The next morning is nonstop from the moment Octavia opens the café doors. People pour in ordering lattes left and right. The tables around the café are littered with trash. She has to split her time behind the cash register and bussing tables, never getting a moment to catch her breath. Once it finally does calm down, Octavia fixes herself a shot of espresso and stacks up a pile of books that had fallen to the floor by the “Cup of Joe & Go” table. All of the travel mugs have been taken leaving the table empty and she sets the books down firmly.

Her fingers curl around the spine of the Odyssey and she opens the book to read a passage.

“Ah, how shameless—the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone, they say, come all their miseries, yes, but they themselves, with their own reckless ways,  
compound their pains beyond their proper share.”

“For mortals, they say their misery is self-imposed, but what about the rest of us truly cursed creatures? Can we blame the gods?”

Octavia’s head shoots up to the front door and sees the outline of a woman standing there with a hand on her hip. The midday sun glows around her head lighting it up like a halo, but Octavia recognizes the voice and knows the woman is far from an angel.

“Clarke Griffin,” she smiles and Clarke comes into view as she enters the café. Octavia glances down quickly, even though the mist shrouds her true form, she doesn’t want to be caught staring at the head of a gorgon. “Here for the Festival?”

“Here for Bellamy. He’s competing in _all_ the events. Someone needs to be there to patch him up,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes. She knows Octavia’s brother is one for the dramatic flair prone to taking on monsters twice his size. Always having something to prove.

“He’ll be fine.”

Clarke follows Octavia behind the counter and observes her as she fixes an iced coffee. Octavia watches the sweet cream mix into the cold brew slowly. And Clarke watches Octavia. She can feel her blue eyes burning into her scalp and imagines the yellow snakes on her head sitting up to look at her too.

“He’s still trying to find a loophole, you know?”

“I’m still stuck here,” Octavia whispers. Clarke places a hand on her shoulder to comfort her but she shakes it off. Clarke and Bellamy had traveled the world together. It wasn’t fair. Octavia pulls herself up and gives Clarke a cold glare.

“Riddle me this, Wanheda,” she uses the nickname given to Clarke by the mortals to shut down any further conversation. She had a face that meant death in the mortal world, too. Clarke flinches at it and her hands ball up in defense. The mist around her shimmers and Octavia can see the snakes coiling angrily around her head. They both know she has to answer the riddle if she wants to pass. 

“Some try to hide,

some try to cheat;

but time will show,

we always will meet.

Who Am I?”

“I am Death,” Clarke answers.

She stomps through the side door angrily when Octavia lets her pass. Her satisfied smirk lasts only a moment before she begins to worry about her brother and his need to take on the world for her. She chews on her lower lip and stares down the alleyway in longing.

“Hey, what’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?” 

_Lincoln._

Octavia wouldn’t admit to thinking about the man all day out loud, but she had been thinking about him all day. She wondered when, or if, he would stop by again. If he had gone up to the mountain trails as she suggested. If he had thought about her. He’s traded in his suit for something more casual, jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt pulls tightly across his chest and Octavia still believes he isn’t any type of god or demigod, but he sure is cut from the same marble as them. He takes her breath away.

“Hi! Here for more of the best coffee in all of Arkadia?”

“You’re the only place that sells coffee!”

“Not true. They have a McDonald’s around the corner.”

Lincoln makes a face and they both laugh. Her chuckles tinkle like bells and echo after his that comes deep from his belly booming out to where she stands. It washes over her making her feel light and airy. Safe.

“Did you see any sights this morning?”

“The hotel gym? A funny looking man in a trenchcoat?”

“Ha! So what can I get you today?”

“Another large coffee. Two sugars.”

“Did you have any trouble sleeping last night? Those coffee beans have been known to pack a punch.” Octavia says noticing the slight dark circles under his eyes.

“I needed it to keep me awake. Still working out the kinks of my deal,” Lincoln doesn’t offer any more than that. Octavia takes the cash from him this time and he steps aside for the lady waiting behind him. While she takes down a hefty drink order, Lincoln signals to her that he’s going to take a seat. He goes over to the window and pulls himself up on a barstool.

He people watches while she runs around the café again. She tries to stop by and talk to him but keeps getting pulled away by customers leaving out the side door or the line for coffee that never seems to end. His smirk turns upside down when she passes by him reminding her of a puppy dog and she rolls her eyes at him. He tells her to turn up the heat on her riddles that he overhears. She asks him if he has somewhere else to be and he just shrugs. They banter back and forth for most of the afternoon until the crowd finally filters out.

She’s wiping down her countertops when he sets down his mug so she refills it for the third time that afternoon.

“You’re never going to sleep with all that caffeine running through your blood system.”

“What can I say? I think I’m addicted.”

“I can set you up with my supplier when he gets...back to town.”

“It’s not just the coffee, Octavia,” Lincoln speaks quietly leaning in closer to her. Octavia blushes and swings her hair around in front of her. “What time do you get off work tonight?”

She wants to tell him, _Oh, around eight._ She wants to follow him out the front door of the café to an Italian restaurant or down to the cinema. He’s so casual and confident asking her out on a date like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it should be, but not for someone like Octavia.

“I can’t…” she hesitates. His face falls for a fraction of a second and then he smirks folding his arms across his chest.

“Did I miss something here?” He points a finger between the two of them. “Do you have someone I should worry about coming through that door?”

They both look over at the side door. Lincoln had watched her curiously earlier in the day whenever someone would leave from there. She can see now how he wants to check it out.

“It’s just a way to the other side of town. Some say it’s faster,” she says nonchalantly. She lays her hand down on the counter under his elbow that hovers a few inches above. She can feel the hairs on his arm brush her finger sending electricity up her spine.

“Sure it is,” he lets her lie and turns back towards her. “So let’s just go.”

“I...can’t,” her green eyes pleading with him to drop it and he sighs.

“Okay, I hear you. Well, I’m going to get out of here for a little while and hammer out some details to my deal. I’ll see you?”

“I’ll be here,” she smiles. He pauses at the door and looks back at her expectantly. She catches on after a moment, “Riddle me this,

If you have me,

you want to share me.

If you share me,

you haven't got me.

What am I?”

Lincoln takes a deep breath, his back to her, and twists the handle of the door up before answering, “A Secret.”

—

It’s nearing twilight when Lincoln comes back to the café. He’s changed clothes again. A leather jacket is thrown over his shoulder under a button up, with faded dark wash jeans and boots. She can see a smile lighting up his whole face through the window as he approaches.

Thunder clouds are brewing behind him along the mountain range in the distance. The rolling of stormy grays and the hot sparks of lightning match the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach.

The door swings open and he saunters over to where she’s perched on an armchair sipping a cup of tea and watching the fire crackle. The café is empty again and she’s taking a much-needed break from the day’s busy rush.

“Working hard?” he quips and sits down across from her.

“Hardly working,” she retorts sitting down her tea so she can flop down into her chair for emphasis. She throws back her head over the side and looks at him upside down. “Why are you so happy?”

“I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Listen, we can go out the front door and hop on my motorcycle and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he states and leans forward to touch Octavia’s knee. His eyes are pleading and she finally notices the mist swirling around his body. She had stopped looking for it after they first met, but she sees it now. She pulls away from him like she’s been burned.

“Or you can go out _that_ door,” he nods his head to her post. To the door, she’s cursed to guard. All three by six feet of it. Guarding the entrance to a world she’s never been allowed to be a part of.

“Who are you?” Octavia asks bewildered and stands to her feet in alarm. The warning bells are sounding off inside her head. Under the mist, her hackles rise and her wings flutter. She paws at the hardwood floor with her foot.

“Ask me your hardest riddle, Octavia,” he ignores her, stands up, and pushes into her space. Octavia tries to search through the mist to decipher who or what he is. His body still appears to be mortal. She pushes against him to move towards the side door. If he is someone other than who he appears to be, she has no choice but to let him pass. 

“Riddle me—,” her voice breaks and she puts all her weight against the door letting it swing open into the alley. Thunder rumbles high in the sky echoing down into the street and she can feel the fat drops of rain hitting her fur. 

“What is that

which in the morning

goes upon four feet

upon two feet in the afternoon, 

and in the evening upon three?”

“Man. He crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two as an adult, and needs a walking cane when he’s old,” Lincoln states and takes a step towards her causing her to take a step back into the alley. “Another one.”

The rain is falling harder now and the mist disappears. She digs her claws into the wet ground anchoring herself so he can’t pass and shakes her eagle wings letting the water hit against his solid chest. He doesn’t flinch at the water or give any indication that he’s noticed any changes in her appearance at all. Like he had seen who she truly was all along.

In legends of the Sphinx, it was said she would devour anyone who couldn’t answer her riddles. Most of the beings that passed through The Grounders Café were able to do so safely. Octavia was mostly harmless only keeping the city of Arkadia safe from mortals accidentally stumbling into its realm. But the beast inside of her was ready to tear Lincoln apart if he couldn’t answer her next riddle correctly.

“There are two sisters:

one gives birth to the other, 

and the other, in turn,

gives birth to the first.

What are they?”

Lincoln takes another step forward into the alley and the light rain begins to pour down soaking them both. He’s still mortal out from under the layer of mist. Nothing makes sense to Octavia but she holds her breath for his answer.

“You have to answer me,” she pleads as tears form in the corner of her eyes.

“You have to trust me,” Lincoln says and ducks his head down to rest his forehead against hers. He waits for a breath and Octavia's eyes flutter close. Raindrops collect on her eyelids and slide down her cheeks. He slowly captures her mouth with his placing strong, sure kisses on her lips. She grips his shirt feeling his solid form. Steady and unmoving. Even when she tries to push him back into the café.

“I don’t know the answer,” Lincoln mumbles against her mouth and she turns her head away from him.

“There are two sisters:

one gives birth to the other

and she, in turn,

gives birth to the first.

Who are the two sisters?” Octavia repeats louder with an angry growl.

“I don’t know—“

“You have to answer!”

“Tell me!” Lincoln takes hold of either side of Octavia’s head cradling her face between his large hands. His brown eyes pierce her green ones searching back and forth for the answer to the riddle. She shakes her head.

His eyes are so kind. His hands are so warm. _Like home._ When she looks at him she feels like she’s found her home so she gives in.

“The two sisters are Day and Night,” she whispers and buries her face in his chest. She can feel the slight rumble of his chest as he laughs. But she doesn’t feel any of the rage she’s used to. She doesn’t feel the cage of her post. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re free, Octavia Blake. We found a loophole,” Lincoln says his eyes shining with pride. There’s something regal in his appearance. No laurel crown sits upon his head, but he carries his head high. And he has no furs or feathers overlying his skin, but there is something mythical to him. A name plays on the edge of her mind.

“To live where time allows, and have a better life…” she quotes and smiles up at him.

“Where do you want to go?” Lincoln stretches his arms out wide. The front door of the café with the town of Arkadia and the world on his right. The side door and the alley leading to the Panathenaia Festival to his left.

“I believe you said you had a motorcycle?” Octavia grins a genuine smile taking over and lighting up her entire face. The Sphinx was finally free to have her own adventure.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to check out all the other great stories in the collection.


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